1 Dress uniform the soldier's wear,
When duty calls abroad;
Not purchas'd at their cost or care,
But by the prince bestowed.

2 Christ's soldiers too, if Christ-like bred,
Have regimental dress;
'Tis linen white, faced with red,
'Tis Christ's own righteousness.

3 A rich and sightly robe it is,
And to the soldier dear;
No rose can learn to blush like this,
Nor lily look so fair.

4 'Tis wrought by Jesus' skilful hand,
And ting'd with his own blood;
It make the Cherubs gazing stand
To view this robe of God.

5 This vesture never waxeth old,
Nor spot thereon can fall;
It makes a soldier brisk and bold,
And dutiful withall.

6 This robe put on me, Lord each day,
And it shall hide my shame,
Shall make me fight and sing and pray
And bless my captain's name.